


Father and  Sons

by Calysta18



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Slash, Mpreg, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 07:13:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9872981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calysta18/pseuds/Calysta18
Summary: Sam and Dean have made a life away from hunting.....





	1. The First Smile is for Dean

**Author's Note:**

> First posted at Sam and Dean Archive - old story new home!

Sam stared down in wonder at their son as he carefully lifted the baby into his arms. Sam looked down at the new life they had created together - tiny and delicate his son wriggled and twitched in his arms. "So what are you still doing awake?" he whispered to his son as he rocked him in his arms. "Sssshhh," he murmured. "You don't want to wake your Daddy up." Sam looked back towards their bed where Dean was sprawled asleep. Sam squinted in the darkness seeing the dark circles around Dean's eyes and his tired and pale face. Even in sleep Dean looked totally exhausted.

Sam sighed to himself as he cradled his son with one arm. He grabbed up their simple bassinet and crept towards the living room. Dumping the bassinet on the coffee table Sam sat down in the rocking chair that Dean had bought him as a gift when he first became pregnant. He rocked back gently as he cradled his son against his chest.

Sam's mind drifted over the events of the past twelve months. Sam shivered as he remembered them being attacked by the group of werewolves they had been tracking. Dean had nearly died that night protecting him and Sam had carried his unconscious and bloody brother two miles to a small clinic fear giving him the strength.

Dean had discharged himself from the small clinic after a week and they had given up the hunt for a month to allow Dean to recuperate from his injuries settling in a small town in Ohio. A wonderful month. They had discovered what they had known for a long time finally admitting to each other that they loved one another and that they belonged together heart and soul. They were brothers and best friends and had become lovers. Their world consisted of himself and Dean always had. They didn't need anyone else. Not even their father.

They had eventually taken up the hunt again helping a witch called Shayla banish some dangerous poltergeists who were preying on her children as well as other children in the small town she lived. With Shayla's help, they had drawn the poltergeists to an abandoned building and after a fierce battle they had banished the angry spirits back to oblivion.

Shayla had tried to give them money but they had refused. Smiling she had kissed each of them and said she would grant them a wish instead. Something to complete them. They had tried to protest but with another smile she had touched them both and left. Confused by her words and actions they had packed up their weapons and meagre belongings and left the town heading towards their next hunt.

They hadn't thought anything of it, but a month later Sam had found himself in the bathroom for the fifth morning in a row choking up his breakfast with Dean behind him gently rubbing his back. A week later it finally hit them. Sam was pregnant. A test had confirmed it and they had sat stunned just holding each other until it finally sunk in.

The nine months had flown by in a blur of sickness, weird food cravings, swollen ankles, a swelling belly, an aching back and raging hormones. Sam hadn't really enjoyed the experience and marvelled at how women coped with all the changes.  But all through it Dean had been there supporting and loving him through everything even through his hormone induced bad tempers and mood swings. Dean had insisted they give up hunting. They had dropped out of sight cutting themselves off completely from the hunting fraternity settling in a small apartment in a town fifty miles from Lawrence, their own birth place.

Dean worked three jobs to support them. An office job that paid well that Sam knew his brother hated. A job as a bar tender/bouncer at a local bar restaurant three nights a week and at the weekends he helped out a local man in his carpentry shop. Sam smiled to himself. The crib that Dean had made sat in the corner of their room waiting for their son to grow into it. Sam still marvelled at the workmanship that had gone into the crib. Protective symbols had been delicately carved into the woodwork and Sam could feel and see the love that had gone into making the crib.

They had been too frightened to find a doctor so they had finally decided that Sam should stay at home resting and taking care of himself. Sam had hated the idea. Hated leaving everything to his brother. They had argued loudly screaming at each other for over an hour. They had ended up in one another's arms holding the other tightly whispering apologies to each other. But Dean had been determined and in the end Sam had given up knowing deep down that it was for the best. They both desperately wanted the child he was carrying. They had used natural remedies and herbs to help out with the worst of the symptoms. Although they knew it was risky, they relied on books and articles to help them out throughout the pregnancy. He had eaten as healthily as he could and they took as many precautions as they could think of.

As the day of the birth neared, Sam watched as Dean stared at the laptop night after night looking for someone to help them. His brother's dogged determination had eventually paid off and he found a doctor researching the possibility of male pregnancy. Dean had taken time off his jobs and driven them three hundred miles non stop. Two days later, Dean had held Sam's hand as he had undergone a caesarian giving birth to a miraculously healthy son in the early hours of All Hallows Eve, a witch's sacred day, and Sam had the distinct feeling that Shayla had been watching over them all the time.

The doctor had been kind, gentle and understanding not at all phased by having a pregnant man in his clinic. In fact he could hardly contain his excitement. But they had still been frightened. Terrified that the doctor wouldn't keep their secret. Terrified that their son would be taken from them. So two nights after Sam had given birth they had crept out of the clinic disappearing into the safety of the darkness.

The journey had been a painful blur to Sam. Again Dean had taken control and handled everything from taking care of Sam to the driving to caring for their newborn son. Dean had stopped even before Sam had known he needed to stop. It had taken them four days but eventually they had arrived at their new home. One that Sam didn't know existed. A house that Dean had rented for them two towns from their old apartment and still close to Lawrence.

That had been nearly six weeks ago. Sam was feeling much better was even back down to his pre-pregnancy weight and had no major after effects from the birth. Even his scar had completely healed and he no longer got twinges of pain from it when he moved or stretched. Now that he was feeling more like himself Sam had spent a lot of time thinking and his thoughts kept turning to Dean. Dean who he loved so much and couldn't live without. Dean who was slowly working himself into the ground to give him and their son a good life.

He couldn't help feeling guilty. Dean had taken care of everything had looked after and cared for him making sure that he was healthy and happy without one word of complaint. Sam had tried to protest on more than one occasion, but Dean just got angry so Sam had taken the cowardly way out and let Dean carry on. But now he was determined to put things right. And before Dean ended up in the hospital. Sam smiled to himself. He had been making plans and all he had to do now was to pick the right moment to tell Dean.

Sam looked down at their son and smiled. He marvelled at his son's tiny fingers and toes and never got tired of watching their son as he slept. At the moment though their son was wide awake blowing bubbles and gurgling contentedly his small hands waggling in the air. Wisps of fair hair covered his tiny head and when he opened his eyes they were a pale colour and Sam just knew that when the eye colour settled they would as green as Dean's eyes.

"Matthew John Winchester," Sam murmured. "What shall we do about your daddy?" he offered the tiny baby a finger. Matthew grasped it gurgling happily. Sam had let Dean chose their son's name and had secretly dreaded what his brother would come up with. He had been surprised by the choice of Matthew, but as soon as Dean had explained the meaning Sam had liked it too. Gift of the Lord seemed so appropriate for their tiny miracle. Sam, himself, had suggested John as a middle name and knew he had made the right choice judging by the happy look on Dean's face and the kiss he got as a reward.

Sam sighed to himself again. They hadn't seen their father in over eighteen months, both too frightened to tell him about their relationship and their resulting son. When they had dropped out of the hunting radar they had also dropped out of their father's radar as well. It was another obstacle they would have to overcome some time in the future and they both knew that John Winchester would find them eventually. But for now Sam's only concern was Dean.

He was startled out of his silent reverie by a movement to his right and he looked up to see a tired looking Dean leaning on the door frame. Sam didn't know how someone could look so pale and flushed at the same time. "You OK?" Dean asked moving forwards. "Do you need something?"

Sam smiled up at Dean. "No," he replied. "Matthew was fussy and I didn't want him to wake you." Dean nodded as he slumped down on the couch scrubbing his hands over his face. "You look beat," Sam murmured.

"I'm OK," Dean gave Sam a small smile but it didn't reach his eyes.

Sam bit his lip. Taking a deep breath he shifted slightly. "No," he replied giving his brother a determined look. "No you're not. You're completely exhausted. You're not eating properly. You hardly sleep. And you're working far too hard," Sam paused to take a breath. "And if you don't slow down you're gonna end up in the hospital."

Dean glared at him and jumped to his feet anger showing on his face. "I'm fine," he yelled. "Quit mothering me."

Sam hadn't meant to argue with Dean but his brother's temper had been even shorter than normal just lately. Sam sensed that his stubborn brother was near the edge and that he wouldn't have to push too hard. He felt a stab of guilt but pushed it aside arguing that it was for Dean's own well being. "No you're not," Sam shouted back. "You're totally exhausted. And I can't bear the thought of you being sick because of me."

"I told you I'm fine Sammy," Dean yelled.

"Well you don't look fine," Sam persisted.

"Dammit Sammy," Dean paced up and down the room angrily. "I'm just trying to give us a good life."

"I know," Sam said quietly. "But you need to take care of yourself."

"You're the one that needs taking care of," Dean glared at Sam. "You just had a baby."

"And you have taken care of me. Through everything. Taken care of Matthew," Sam said soothingly. "And now it's our turn to take care of you." Matthew protested their shouting with a small whimpering sound. Sam rocked their son tightening his hold slightly to soothe the child. Matthew soon settled closing his eyes with a big yawn. Sam got to his feet and gently laid their son in his bassinet covering him with the blanket. "When was the last time you just sat down and held your son?" Sam challenged lowering his voice slightly.

"I hold him all the time," Dean retorted his anger fading into confusion.

"No," Sam shot back. "You take care of his needs. Feeding him. Changing him. Bathing him," he narrowed his eyes at Dean. "I mean just sit down and hold him. For more than ten minutes."

"What?" Dean looked at him anger and still a hint of confusion showing on his face.

"I want you to sit down with our son and hold him. Enjoy him," Sam said evenly. "Before he's all grown up and you've missed it." Sam didn't have to say it. The words he hadn't spoken "just like Dad did" hung heavy in the air between them.

Sam felt another stab of guilt. He could tell from the look on his brother's face that his harsh words, spoken and unspoken, had hit home. Dean stared at Sam for a moment before turning his back on his brother and walking up and down the small room again restlessly. Sam quietly watched his brother waiting patiently. He could see anger on his brother's expressive face. He watched as the anger turned to fear and finally to resignation. He watched as his brother finally gave into his tiredness his body seeming to slump inwards.

Dean looked at him again his face paling visibly as he stared at Sam. Dean took a step forwards stumbling slightly. He swayed and Sam was immediately at his side a hand on Dean's elbow leading him towards the couch. Dean seemed to slump against him and Sam felt a sudden sense of panic wondering if he had gone too far suddenly wishing that he had forced this conversation weeks ago. "Dean," he murmured.

"I'm just tired Sammy," Dean replied as he sunk back down onto the couch. He pulled away from Sam hiding his face in his hands. Dean's body shook slightly as he let go crying softly. Sam didn't feel triumphant but he felt a sense of relief wash over him perhaps now he could get Dean to start taking care of himself. He hated seeing his usually strong brother in pain and miserable. He knew that Dean would never cry if he wasn't totally worn-down. Sam felt like crying himself and bit at his lip. "God," he thought to himself. "We'll drown if I cry as well." He carefully put his arm around his brother's trembling shoulders. "Dean," he said. "You are such an idiot. You were so busy making sure I was OK and not tired," Sam accused. "That you wore yourself out instead."

"I'm sorry," Dean mumbled. "So sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about. It's OK," Sam murmured softly. "I'm here. We're here," he said rubbing his hand in circles on his brother's back.

Dean pulled away turning a tear stained pale face towards Sam. "I know but I want... want everything for Matthew. For you," Dean stuttered as he wiped at his face.

"I know but you don't have to kill yourself to get it," Sam took hold of one of Dean's hands and squeezed gently.

"I want you both to have a home," Dean waved his free hand around the room. "This home. But I need to work to keep it."

"Dean," Sam said determined. "We'd live in the Impala. In a tent. As long as you were with us. I... we don't care."

Dean looked at Sam. "But I do Sam. I care. I want everything for Matthew. I want him to have everything we never had. I want Matthew to have a home. To have toys he can keep. I want him to have a yard to play in. One with a swing-set. I want him to go to school. One school. I want him to have friends. To make friends. Everything. And.... and," Dean ran out of steam as he leaned up against Sam. "And I want you to have stuff too."

"I want those things for him too, but I want you to have stuff too," Sam said. "You deserve to have stuff too." Dean looked at him confused. "Dean," Sam laughed lightly. "And don't you dare say you're fine. And that you don't matter. I wasn't the only one who missed out on a childhood," Sam threatened with a smile.

Dean pulled a face at Sam. "Whatever," he muttered and Sam could feel his brother's body tensing again.

"You do matter Dean," Sam said gently. "We're a family. You. Me. And Matthew. It's not just your responsibility to give us stuff," Sam carefully pronounced each word in an effort to get through to Dean his meaning. "I want to help. And I'm going to help. I shoulda helped earlier and I'm the one that should be sorry. Sorry that I left you to do it all on your own."

"But you just had a baby. Our son. That's important," Dean protested. "You need....," he started to say.

Sam put a finger over Dean's lips stopping him. "No," he said softly. "I'm feeling much better now. And we are going to do it together. Make a home. Make a life. For us all."

"But," Dean went to say again.

"No buts," Sam said determined. "I am taking temporary charge of this family while you get yourself well again."

Dean raised his eyes at Sam's determined expression. He gave his brother a small smile. "You are?" Dean felt himself relaxing for the first time in over twelve months. He hated to admit that Sam was right but he felt sick, tired and weary. He knew he needed some help but he just didn't know how to ask for it. They only had each other. They were happy with that, but Dean had begun to feel overwhelmed with the responsibility he had taken on. He knew that it was his own fault. He hadn't let Sam help him when his brother had pleaded with him. He silently cursed his stupidity and stubbornness.

Sam nodded. "And you are calling in sick tomorrow," he said.

"I can't," Dean protested.

"You can and you will," Sam replied. "And while you're talking to your boss, you can tell him that you are leaving. I know how much you hate it. And if you don't I will."

"Sam," Dean said exasperated. "The job sucks but it pays good money."

"I don't care," Sam retorted. "You are leaving tomorrow. We'll manage. I've been doing some research and I can get a job as a lecturer's assistant at the local university. I already applied and got an interview next week. And I think I've got a good chance at getting the job." He smiled at Dean. "And before you say anything they're a modern school. They have a day care facility for Matthew. I checked before I applied."

"You have been busy little brother," Dean said lying back on the couch closing his eyes. He rolled his head towards Sam. "So what about the restaurant and Frank's carpentry shop? You sorted that out too wonder boy?"

"Yes," Sam nodded with a pleased smile. "You are also taking time off from the restaurant. Two weeks at least," he continued. "And Frank wants you to work full-time at the carpenter's shop. He says you have a real talent. And I know you love it there."

"It doesn't pay as much as the office job," Dean said opening his eyes again a worried look on his face.

Sam shrugged. "So it doesn't pay as much. But at least you'll be doing something you like. Something you're good at. That's more important." Sam smiled at Dean. "And Frank tells me he has a few orders for cribs like the one you made for Matthew."

Dean blushed. "Really?" he whispered.

"Really," Sam said. "So in a couple of days you can go and talk to Frank and work the details out."

Dean stared at Sam too tired to argue so he gave a slight nod. "You sure you didn't get some bossy hormones or something when you were pregnant?" he teased.

"You haven't seen nothing yet," Sam shot back with a smile.

"Oh God," Dean sighed. "Kill me now."

Sam pulled a face at Dean. "You can be in charge again when you are your lovable self again," Sam said. "You are going to rest and get yourself well again."

Dean laughed lightly. "I'm too freaked out by super Sammy not to," he said.

"And on Saturday you are taking me and your son on a picnic to the park."

"You are such a girl," Dean pulled a face.

Sam edged closer to Dean. "I love you Dean," he murmured as he raised a hand to caress Dean's pale face gently. "And I want you to be happy."

Dean took Sam's hand in his own and kissed it. "I love you too Sammy," he said.

Sam tugged on Dean's t-shirt pulling him forwards and kissing him gently. Dean leaned into the kiss as he entwined their fingers together. "We can do this," Sam murmured pulling back. "It'll be OK. We can make it work. Together."

"I know," Dean said. "I know."

Sam let go of Dean and jumped up to feet. Before Dean could utter a word of complaint Sam pushed and tugged until his brother was sitting legs up on the couch his back propped up by all the cushions from every chair in the room. "I'm gonna hate this .... you being in charge," Dean smiled up at Sam.

Sam gave him a mischievous grin. "But I'm gonna so enjoy it," he said with another grin. Dean rolled his eyes at Sam. At that moment Matthew Winchester decided to let out a wail of distress. "Guess he's feeling left out," Sam leant over the bassinet and lifted their son back into his arms. "Here," he handed the wailing child to Dean. "Talk to your son while I get him a bottle," he said as he moved towards the kitchen. He turned back to Dean and Matthew. "Matthew don't let your daddy move from that couch until I say so."

"Your daddy is so bossy," Dean complained to his son. "But when you're bigger we'll gang up on him," he smiled at the thought. Matthew continued to whimper. "Hey," Dean whispered. "What's all that noise about," he stroked a finger down his son's small face. Dean rocked Matthew back and forwards until the whimpering stopped. "Daddy and me are gonna take you on a picnic on Saturday," he murmured. "Would you like that?" Matthew looked towards Dean's voice and started to blow bubbles again gurgling happily. Dean gently touched his son's hand and the small fingers curled around his larger one. Matthew looked up and smiled at Dean.

"Hey Sammy," Dean called. "Matthew just smiled at me." He grinned happily as Sam came back into the room a bottle in his hand. "I was just telling him about the picnic and he smiled at me."

"And you say I'm a girl," Sam teased. He leant over the back of the couch handing Dean the bottle he had prepared. He couldn't resist it he kissed Dean on the top of his head as he watched his brother feed their son. Sam vowed that he was never going to tell Dean that Matthew had smiled at him two days ago.  No, Matthew's first smile was for Dean.  Dean deserved the honour.


	2. John Returns...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John returns....

Sam just couldn't help himself. This was his third visit to their son's nursery in an hour. He just never grew tired of looking down at Matthew watching the tiny child sleeping peacefully in the crib that Dean had made for him.

Sam looked around the nursery they had made for their son before he had been born. It was a light and airy room so they had chosen to paint a neutral cream colour on the walls. Despite Dean's loud objections there was even a teddy bear wallpaper freeze running around the middle of all the walls in the room to break up the colour. Protection symbols had discreetly been placed around the room and Sam had carefully painted one of the nicer looking symbols over the crib and on the opposite wall. To anybody but a hunter the symbols just looked like an ordinary decoration blending into the overall look of the nursery. They had even knocked through a door to their own room both feeling much more comfortable that their child would be in easy reach of them both if the need arose.

Not only had Dean made their son's crib but he had also made all the shelving as well as the two chest of drawers that contained all Matthew's clothing. Dean had also crafted the mobile that hung over the crib - eight small and delicately hand carved wooden Impalas moved gently as Sam blew on them.

Other baby paraphernalia was neatly stacked, by Sam, on the top of the drawer units and in the walk-in closet. The shelves themselves were weighed down with a variety of different coloured teddy bears and other stuffed animals as well as books, building bricks, toy cars and even a train set. Sam had laughed and teased Dean when he came home with it. Dean had protested saying that every boy needed a train set and then proceeded to set it up in the living room and play with it himself for over two hours. Sam had eventually joined in and it was as though they were living a part of their missed childhood. He hoped that Matthew would get as much pleasure out of the train set as they had when he was old enough to appreciate it.

Sam turned his attention back to their son. He couldn't decide who Matthew took after the most. He squinted down seeing both himself and Dean in the small child. Tiny and delicate Sam was glad that Matthew had inherited Dean's rounder face, his pale eyes and high cheekbones. But Sam could also see that Matthew had his nose, would have dark hair like his own and would probably be taller than both of them as an adult. He gently ran his finger down the small face marvelling at how much their son had grown in three months. Matthew sighed and shifted slightly in his sleep. Sam fiddled with the blanket making sure his son was tucked in properly and then moved Matthew's favourite teddy bear at the other end of the crib into a proper sitting position. Satisfied and with a last look at his son, Sam drifted out in the living room to continue his work on the research he had been set by his professor. It was his afternoon off but he had volunteered to do the research work at home. Sam loved his job. Archaeology wasn't really his field but nonetheless he found it fascinating and enjoyed the research aspect of his job.

Sam grabbed his mug of coffee and took a quick sip. He glanced at the baby monitor making sure that the red light was on. He leant forward on his elbows day-dreaming not really concentrating on the laptop in front of him. As always his thoughts turned to Dean and their life together.

Turning their backs on hunting before Matthew had been born, they had made a quiet simple life in a small town not far from their own birth place. Sam hoped with all his heart that Dean was as happy as he was. Just a few weeks ago, Dean had been making himself ill, totally exhausting himself, from working three jobs to support them. Sam had been desperately worried and had reluctantly brought the matter to a head persuading Dean to give up one of the jobs completely and take a vacation from the other two. Sam had gotten his way and although he had insisted that Dean rest completely, his brother had succumbed to a nasty virus that put him in the hospital for a week and recuperating at home for a further two weeks.

Still a little pale but healthier than he had been for months, Dean had finally returned to work with Frank in his carpentry shop. As it turned out Dean had decided, and Sam had agreed, to give up the bar job preferring instead to work full time with Frank. It was job that Dean seemed to love and was good at. Frank had told Sam that his brother had a natural talent and it showed in the beautiful works of art he created. Frank's business had doubled since Dean had joined him and they were steadily gaining a reputation for the work they did with the word spreading to the towns surrounding their own. Money was tight but with Sam's income, and with some money that Dean had saved, they managed to keep their heads above water.

Dean had insisted they stop hunting when Sam became pregnant and so they had dropped under the radar of the hunting fraternity both settling for the peace and normality of their life. But it also meant that they hadn't seen their father for over a year. Dean never talked about hunting or their father. It was subject that was painful to both of them, more so for Dean and Sam was terrified that if their father came back into their lives, Dean would once again take up the hunt.

Sam shivered at the thought. They loved each other so much it hurt sometimes but it was a pain that they both welcomed and Matthew, well their son was the gift they could never have dreamed of.

Sam was startled out of his reverie by the floor-board behind him creaking. "You've gone soft boy," a familiar deep voice hissed as a gun was poked into the small of his back. Sam froze. He recognised the voice. It was his father John Winchester. "But then you always had Dean to look out for you."

"He still does," Dean whispered from behind him. John Winchester started slightly and dropped the gun from Sam's back flicking on the safety as he heard the familiar sound of a shotgun being racked and then felt the press of the barrels to his own back. John cursed himself silently forgetting how stealthy Dean could be. In his attempt to creep up on his youngest son, John hadn't heard his eldest son come up behind him. John felt Dean lean closer. He heard Dean make the shotgun safe and lower it from his back. "And we always looked out for each other."

Sam leapt to his feet and turned on his father angrily the old resentments and acrimony bubbling to the surface. He leant forward and grabbed his father by the arm taking him by surprise. John Winchester hit the floor with a grunt at the same time as Sam snatched his gun away. Sam put his foot lightly on John's chest holding him on the floor. He glared at John.

Dean cocked his head to one side looking down at his father his shotgun loosely slung over one shoulder. "Hey Dad," he grinned. "Long time."

"Do you think you could let your old man up?" John glared back at Sam. Sam kept his foot on his father's chest. Dread filled Sam as he looked down at his father. He was terrified that John would coax Dean back into hunting away from him and Matthew.

"Sammy," Dean said quietly touching Sam's arm. Sam ignored him and Dean could feel the anger and tension vibrating off his brother. "Sammy," he repeated softly.

Sam glanced sideways at his brother. Dean gave him a small reassuring smile nodding his head towards the hallway. Sam looked back at his father and removed his foot from his chest tossing the gun to him as John got to his feet. Sam slowly moved towards the entrance of the hallway which housed the bedrooms and their sleeping son. "Same old Sammy," John teased.

"It's Sam," Sam shot back angrily. "Dean's the only one that gets to call me Sammy."

John raised his eyes at his youngest son but ignored the comment. "So this is where you've been hiding," John looked around the room. "Nice house," he said.

"We think so," Sam said folding his arms across his chest. "And we haven't been hiding." It was a half lie but Sam was in no mood to let his father know that.

Dean put a hand up trying to keep Sam calm. "We had other priorities," he said firmly. Without thinking Dean stepped between his father and brother wanting to be ready in case the tension between them escalated. He sighed to himself knowing deep down that their reunion with their father was not going to be good.

Many nights had been spent laying in their bed legs and arms entwined planning how they would tell their father about their relationship and their son. They knew that John Winchester probably wouldn't understand but they both agreed that they wanted their father to know. But they had been so happy with their life that they kept putting off the moment and now it was too late.

"More important than hunting the thing that killed your mother?" John looked from one son to the other.

"That was always your obsession, not ours," Sam snapped.

"It became your obsession when Jessica was killed," John retorted angrily. He had promised himself that he wouldn't lose his temper, but his youngest son always knew how to push him. "I seem to remember that you wanted revenge for her death. Couldn't wait to kill the son of a bitch." Sam bit his lip at the truth of the statement. He chose to remain silent looking at the floor. John gave a harsh laugh. "The truth always hurts Sammy boy," he spat triumphantly.

Sam looked up glaring at his father again. He opened his mouth to reply but was stopped by Dean's hand on his arm. Dean gave him another small smile. Sam took a deep breath to calm himself for his brother's sake. He smiled back.

Dean turned to his father feeling a hostility that he couldn't explain. He loved his father had always wanted to be like him but over the last year things had changed for him. He was no longer driven by the need to hunt and deep down he admitted to himself that he had always been terrified that he would become as obsessive and driven as his father. But Sam and his simple unconditional love for him had changed all of that and Dean wasn't going to give up the new life he loved and would fight to protect it with all he had. He loved his father but he loved Sam and Matthew so much more finally having the family he had craved for so long. "So what brings you here Dad?" Dean asked quietly.

"I've come to visit my sons," John answered evenly. "I've been worried about you."

Sam snorted. "Since when?"

John scowled at Sam biting his lip to keep his temper under control. "You're my sons. Of course I worry about you."

"Yeah right," Sam said sarcastically. "That would be a first."

John narrowed his eyes at his youngest son but chose to ignore the remark. "One of you could have called me. Told me where you were."

"We tried that and had long conversations with your voice mail time and time again," Sam shouted angrily. "There were times we really needed you and you never called us back. Ever."

John looked down at his feet guiltily. "I've been looking for you," he looked at his sons.

"For how long?" Dean asked calmly. He could feel his own anger rising and bit it down. "A week... two. We haven't been on the hunting scene for over a year. And don't tell me that it's taken you this long to find us because I won't believe you."

"OK," John put his hands up in surrender. "So it was just recently. I always visit the area at this time of year to visit your mother's grave. And I was on my way back to the truck when I saw this," he dug in his pocket and threw a wooden carving at Dean who caught it easily. "A Dean Winchester original," he cocked his head to one side. "So I tracked you. Right to your front door."

"So you weren't looking for us?" Sam accused. "You just found us by accident."

"Sam," Dean turned to his brother giving him a warning look. Sam pulled a face. Dean rolled his eyes before turning back to his father. "So your tracking skills are still on form then," he quipped putting the carving on the coffee table. "It's just your ears that need some attention." John shot his oldest son a dirty look. Dean grinned at his father.

"And your father skills," Sam murmured. "They always sucked."

John ignored Sam turning his attention to Dean. "I see that your skills are as good as they ever were. Sam here never heard me come up behind him. But then I never heard you. You haven't lost that hunter instinct of yours." Sam couldn't help himself he shivered at the words. He didn't think that his father was a threat to their son but he found his feet moving and he backed up closer to the hallway entrance.

"You were threatening Sammy," Dean narrowed his eyes at John. "And nobody. Not even you. Does that."

John went to answer in his defence but Matthew Winchester chose that moment to announce his presence. His loud wailing came through clearly on the baby monitor. Sam immediately turned and disappeared towards the nursery. Dean took a step towards the entrance of the hallway blocking his father's way forward.

"Your other priorities," John nodded towards the hallway.

"A very important one. Our child," Dean replied with a nod.

"I guess that's what the demon meant just before I burned the bastard and sent it back to hell," John said.

"What?" Dean looked at his father confused. "The demon's dead."

"Sure is," John smiled broadly. "Killed it myself." John shrugged slightly. "But before I killed it the bastard said it would be paying you two a visit," he nodded towards Sam who had reappeared with Matthew cradled in his arms. "Now I know it meant. It was coming for the kid." Matthew continued to cry loudly. Sam was rocking his son gently trying to calm him.

Dean looked from his father to his son horror reflected on his face. "You mean the demon was coming after our son?" John nodded. Dean moved closer to Sam and he could see that his brother had tightened his hold of Matthew. It had been an unspoken fear between them that they were afraid that the demon that killed their mother would come after their son. But now it was dead killed by their avenging father. Each brother could feel the relief rolling off the other. The battle was over and they could now get on with the life they had chosen in peace and safety.

"It's really dead?" Sam asked to make sure.

"Yeah. Gone forever," John answered. "I tracked...," he started to say.

"So you giving up the hunt now?" Dean interrupted not wanting to hear the story of how his father had killed the demon. It was no longer important to him. The demon was dead and he felt a huge weight lift from his shoulders and heart and he sensed that Sam felt the same way.

"No," John said with a tinge of disappointment in his voice. He wanted to tell his sons about the final battle with the demon but he sensed that they weren't interested in his story. He decided the save the tale for later perhaps when he could get Dean on his own. "It's all I know. I'm like you Dean," he leant forward and picked up the wood carving. "Not really your style Dean."

"Well it's my style now," Dean replied as he snatched the carving from his father's hand and set it down on the coffee table again next to the shotgun. Dean could feel his anger at his father growing again. "And I think I'm pretty good at it."

It was John's turn to snort. "You're a hunter Dean," he leaned forward. "Always will be. Even as a child you were a hunter. And a hunter you'll be to the day you die," he said.

"I didn't have a choice then, but I do now," Dean answered defiantly folding his arms across his chest. "And I chose my family," he waved a hand at Sam and Matthew. "They are the single most important thing in my life now. And I will never hunt again. Unless it's to protect them."

John shot Dean a surprised look. He had been confident that he could entice Dean back to hunting alongside him and was taken aback that his eldest son preferred his life as a carpenter. "May be," he shrugged. "But it don't change the fact that hunting is in your blood."

Dean shook his head determined and stepped back towards Sam and Matthew clearly making his choice. "No contest Dad."

Sam couldn't help himself. He smiled broadly at his father. His fear that Dean would go back to hunting when their father re-appeared was unfounded. Dean had chosen him and Matthew over their father and Sam made himself a silent promise that Dean would never regret his choice. Sam breathed a sigh of relief as he continued to soothe their son.

John raised his eyes and moved closer and took a quick look at his grandson. Matthew had stopped crying and was now contentedly blowing bubbles and gurgling. Having just discovered his hands and feet, Matthew wiggled in Sam's arms trying to get one of his feet near his mouth. Not being successful with his foot he settled for stuffing two fingers in his mouth and blew bubbles around them. "Cute kid," John said as he looked from Dean to Sam. John looked back down to the small child and looked back up to his sons. The baby seemed to have characteristics from both his sons and his brows creased in confusion. Realisation hit him like a lightning bolt. "You said our child. Our son," he looked at Dean. Then he looked at Sam. And then down at Matthew again.

Dean stared at his father his gaze not flinching. "That's right," he answered defiantly. "Our son." It wasn't the way Dean would have chosen to tell his father of their relationship and resulting son, but the situation seemed to have spiralled out of all their control.

"You mean you're raising the kid together?" John asked his voice hopeful. "That one of you is the father?"

"No I mean our son," Dean confirmed. "Sammy's and mine."

"What?" John took a step forward angry. Dean pushed Sam behind him protectively taking a step towards his father. "You mean....... you mean..," John stuttered looking from one to the other. "That it," he stabbed a finger at Matthew. "Is your son? That one of you gave birth to it? And the.... the other fathered it?"

"Matthew's not an it," Sam exploded. "He's a gift. Our gift. Our son." Matthew had started to scream in protest at the raised voices. Tears ran down his small face as he sobbed wriggling in distress in Sam's arms. Sam tightened his hold rocking the wailing child from side to side. Matthew's screams got louder.

"Can't you shut the kid up?" John snapped furiously. His mind was reeling at his sons' confession.

"You're frightening him," Sam accused his father as Matthew continued to scream. "And yes I gave birth to him. Happy now?"

John's mouth dropped open in shock. He turned his attention away from Sam and the screaming baby to Dean. "And you?" John yelled his rage uncontrollable. "Are the father?"

John answered his own question in his mind before Dean could reply himself. Without warning John moved forwards quickly. Raising a hand, John slapped Dean hard across the face. Taken by surprise Dean reeled back. Still moving forwards John followed the slap with a punch to Dean's face. Losing his balance, Dean stumbled and fell to the floor. Almost immediately Dean started to scrabble to his feet his hand moving to the reddened skin on his face. "You were meant to protect him," John yelled. In a blind fury not knowing what he was doing John kicked Dean hard in the side before his son could get fully to his feet. Dean cried out dropping back to the floor leaning forward in pain. He hugged his arms around his body trying to ease the agony. "Not...... not....," John shouted as he went to kick Dean again. "It's ... it's," John spluttered lost for words.

"If you touch him again I'll kill you," Sam said quietly. John spun around to see Sam aiming Dean's shotgun at him. A crying Matthew was cradled in one arm while the shotgun was cradled in the other. "I mean it Dad," he said. "Now move away from him." Sam had been frozen in shock as he watched his father attack Dean. At first he had thought his father might be possessed so he had whispered the words 'Christo' with no effect. Spurred into action by Dean's cry of pain, he had juggled a whimpering Matthew under one arm and snatched up the shotgun and pointed it at his father.

John recognised the threat in Sam's voice and slowly moved away from his eldest son. "He didn't do anything to me that I didn't want," Sam knelt at Dean's side still looking up at his father. "We love each other. We're lovers. We share the same bed. We make love," he couldn't help himself the words spilling out.

John paled at the words. "You can't love each other like that. It's unnatural and wrong," he shot back. "You'll burn in hell." He chose his words to hurt.

"Then we'll burn together," Dean muttered as he struggled to his feet. He winced at the pain in his side. He took Matthew from Sam and cuddled him with one arm. Matthew was still whimpering but soon settled as Dean whispered soothing words to him. Sam racked the shotgun pointing it again at his father.

"Don't you remember anything I taught you," John spat. "I told you never to point a weapon at someone unless you meant it."

Sam glared at his father taking a deep breath. "I mean it," he replied calmly as he tightened his grip on the weapon. John narrowed his eyes at Sam hearing the slight edge in his voice. At that moment John knew that if he made one wrong move Sam might just shoot him.

Sam shivered slightly. Dean felt the his brother's body trembling. He put a reassuring hand on Sam's arm. "It's OK dude," he said. "You can put the gun down. Dad's not gonna do anything," Dean put his hand firmly on the barrels of the shotgun pushing it downwards. Dean felt Sam's grip loosen and he breathed a sigh of relief as Sam made the shotgun safe. He turned back to his father. "I think it's best that you leave our home now," Dean suggested.

"This isn't over," John threatened.

"Yes it is," Dean said. "If you can't accept our relationship. Or our son as your grandson. Then you're not welcome here. Ever." His voice wavered slightly and Dean felt tears pricking at his eyes. He bit his lip in an effort to stop them falling.

"I'll never condone or excuse this... whatever you call it," John couldn't bring himself to say the words. Even though he felt guilty for striking Dean it didn't change the way he felt. His sons were lovers and he couldn't and wouldn't understand it or forgive them for it. "And I will never be a grandfather to your... your......," he waved a hand at Matthew.

Sam scowled at his father. "I'm sorry that's the way you feel," he said. "We never meant to hurt you. But the fact is that we love each other. And it doesn't matter to us what you or anyone else thinks."

John looked from one son to the other. He saw matching determined expressions and knew that this was one battle he was never going to win. A feeling of regret washed over his body. His sons had grown up and he had missed it. Somewhere along the line they had grown even closer to one another and he had a feeling that he had been partly responsible driving them away had pushed them together. It was obvious even to him that Sam and Dean really loved one another and only wanted to be a family with their son. John realised that their hunting days were over and that it was their choice. He had to leave. Leave them to live the life they had chosen. He hardened his heart with the fury and anger he felt towards his sons and their relationship. "I guess this is goodbye then," John turned. "I won't be back," he walked out of the door slamming it behind him.

Sam and Dean stared at the closed door for a long time in silence. Sam eventually moved dropping the shotgun back onto the coffee table. Sam turned to Dean. He stepped close pulling his brother and their son into his arms wrapping them in a warm loving hug.

 

Later.....

Sam rolled over in bed reaching out for Dean. Startled when his hands touched cool sheets Sam opened his eyes and sat up. He peered into the darkness. Dean was missing from their bed.

Sam leapt out of bed and headed towards the nursery instinctively knowing that his brother would be there. He leant on the door frame quietly watching his brother. Dean had dragged the rocking chair from the living room into the nursery and was sitting rocking slowly back and forward a wide-awake Matthew cradled in his arms. Dean had the small night-light on and Sam could see clearly the black eye that their father had given him. Sam felt his anger rising again because he also knew that Dean had a myriad of black and blue bruising on his right side where their father had kicked him in a rage. Luckily no ribs had been broken but the bruising covered most of Dean's right side and part of his belly. Sam accepted that they were both partly to blame for not telling their father about their relationship but in his eyes it didn't excuse the fact that he had attacked and hurt Dean.

After their father had left they had sat and talked for over two hours. They both loved their father but agreed if he couldn't accept their relationship or their son then he had no place in their lives. Sam knew that it would be especially hard for Dean but he was determined to be there for his brother as Dean had always been there for him. Sam secretly hoped, for Dean's sake, that their father would eventually forgive them and come back into their lives. But until that time it would just be him, Dean and Matthew.

Sam suddenly wanted and needed to be close to Dean as they had been earlier in the evening when they had made love. Their love-making had been sensual, gentle and re-affirming almost as if they were rebelling against their father and his narrow-mindedness. Sam smiled at the memory. "Dean," he whispered moving forwards. "Is everything OK?" he knelt in front of his brother.

"I want to run Sammy," Dean turned bleak eyes on him. "I just want to pack you both up in the Impala and run. Far away. So he can't find us. Ever."

"Dean," Sam started to protest.

"But I won't," Dean interrupted with a determined expression on his face. "We won't. Because this is our home. I like it here and so do you. And I want our son to grow up here."

"Then that's what we'll do," Sam replied with a smile. "Just you me and Matthew. OK?" He rubbed one of Dean's knees. "And we've got that swing set you bought at Christmas to build this summer."

"Yeah," Dean smiled back as he ran his finger gently down their son's face. Matthew cooed at him waving his tiny hands in the air trying to grab Dean's finger without success. "He's gonna love it."

"You mean you're gonna love it," Sam giggled as he took one of his son's hands kissing at the soft skin gently. Matthew gave him a smile as he blew bubbles. Sam kissed his hand again. Matthew blinked up at Sam gave a big yawn and closed his eyes as Dean's rocking finally took its toll.

"Whatever," Dean shrugged with a smile. "Hey I don't want you to accuse me of being a girl..... but I meant what I said Sammy," he looked down at his brother.

"What?" Sam asked confused.

"That there's no contest. You and Matthew are the two most important people in my life," Dean blushed at the admission. "I love Dad," his voice cracked slightly. "But I love you two more. Much more."

"That goes for us too," Sam said. "And you are such a girl," he teased with a wicked grin.

"Jerk," Dean grinned back.

"Bitch," Sam said automatically.

"Watch your language in front of our son," Dean said with a grin.

Sam snorted. "Come on," he tugged on Dean's arm. "Come back to bed. It's cold without you."

"Now who's being a girl?" Dean quipped as he got to his feet wincing slightly in pain as he jarred his side with the movement. He shot Sam a warning glare before his brother could say anything. His words of concern immediately died on Sam's lips so he settled for a small smile instead. "Matthew's coming too," Dean murmured. "Just for tonight."

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean snagging Matthew's favourite teddy bear from the end of his crib. "I meant both of you," he said knowing that Dean wanted and needed to be close to their son tonight. And if he was honest with himself he needed that closeness too.

"Let's hope he don't kick like you do," Dean joked. "I'll be black and blue from both of you."

Sam pulled a face at Dean as he climbed into their bed. Dean smirked as he carefully placed their now sleeping child on the bed before sliding in himself.

"He's still so little," Dean breathed as he snuggled closer to their son.

"He'll grow," Sam said as he placed the teddy bear next to their son. He gently ran a finger over the child's head. Matthew sighed in his sleep as his legs kicked in the air.

"See," Dean laughed quietly. "Dude he's so gonna kick me like you do. I won't survive many nights in the same bed as you two."

"Dean," Sam laughed. "I promise that the two of you can gang up on me in some weird way that you will no doubt think up."

"Really?" Dean reached over their son caressing his hand down Sam's face gently.

"Really," Sam turned and kissed Dean's fingers.

"Cool," Dean whispered.


End file.
